Page 133 of Wicked Submission


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Blake leans forward to look at me over the top of Abbie’s lap his brown eyes intense, seeking. “Fuck, man, my Uber had a flat two blocks back.” And his love of the word “fuck” unapologetic. “I have something new on the sale of the shelter I didn’t want to relay by phone.”

“Abbie,” I say, “this is Blake Walker of Walker Security. One of the founding brothers.”

“I’d say nice to meet you,” Abbie breathes out, “but I’m still trying to get my heart to stop racing. Obviously, I’m much more on edge than I realized.”

“Sorry about that, Abbie,” Blake murmurs. “I’ll be better next time.”

“Please tell me there won’t be a next time,” she replies.

His gaze is already back to me, the apology over. The reason he’s here his focus. “Jean Claude’s company is quietly making offers on properties around the shelter. They’re all signing a confidentiality agreement. He’s planning a retail complex complete with a movie theater.”

“And they need the shelter property to make it happen,” Abbie assumes.

“Literally,” Blake states. “I got a glimpse of the blueprints. Without the shelter, they can’t make this work.”

“And Kenneth promised him that he could get the shelter and get it cheap,” she replies bitterly.

“That we can only assume,” Blake replies.

“I need to just give them the shelter,” she says. “I need this over. Done.”

“It’s not that simple with murder in the mix, baby,” I say. “That’s why Reid is with Jean Claude. He’ll negotiate. He’ll make sure we’re all protected. He and Jean Claude speak the same language.”

“That’s a little scary,” Abbie murmurs, and those words cut right through me. I’m not so different from my brother. A fact that perhaps kept Reid and I at arms length a chunk of our lives. We see ourselves when we see each other.

My hand falls away from Abbie’s leg. “Where does my father fit into this?”

“We’ll talk,” Blake says. “Once we’re inside your apartment.”

The SUV halts and I glance out of the window. “We’re supposed to be at my sister’s place.”

“They’re run over with press, thanks to Reese’s trial,” Blake says. “We moved you here.”

He eyes the driver. “Are we clear?”

“Clear,” the driver says. “No press.”

Blake opens the door and gets out, running from the truth he has to tell. No. Running from Abbie before she hears the truth he has to tell. Abbie should follow him out but she doesn’t move. The minute he’s out of sight, Abbie turns to me, her gaze searching my face, for some awareness of where this is headed. No place good, that’s for damn sure. She just landed my brother in the same bucket with Jean Claude, and now my father is about to be exposed as the dirt I’ve warned her he is and always will be.

“Gabe,” she whispers.

“Let’s go inside.”

She hesitates, worry etched in her brow, and then reluctantly scoots across the seat to exit the vehicle. Her legs start to swing outward, and I swear it’s like she’s leaving to never return. I catch her wrist and pull her back, cupping her head. “Abbie.” That’s all I say. What the hell else can I say? My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry with demand, demand she see only the good parts of me. Demand that she stay, that she doesn’t leave. Fuck. I tear my mouth from hers, our lips a breath apart with my realization. All I’m doing is demanding, forcing her to submit and that’s what her ex did to her.

Horns honk and she brushes her fingers over my cheek. “He’s not you. I know that.”

I don’t know how she knows that’s where my head is, how she tasted that fear on my lips, but she did. I kiss her again and say, “Let’s go inside.”

She exits first and I follow. Blake stands on the sidewalk, arms folded in front of him, dark eyes pinning mine over Abbie’s head. The silent message in that look nothing more than a confirmation. I don’t want Abbie to hear what he has to say.

The three of us head into my building and I try to figure out how I get a minute to talk to him alone. Once we’re on the elevator Blake offers me that answer. “Reese and Cat are alreadyin your apartment and Reese is eager to get started with you, Abbie.”

“Get started prepping me to be questioned on murder charges,” she whispers. “How is this my life?”

The answer, I am certain, is as I’ve feared all along but now am about to confirm. My father. I pull her to me, hold her close, wishing like hell I didn’t know this was headed to a place that might just destroy us. We enter the apartment and Dexter all but tackles us both at the door. That damn dog is so happy to have a family he’s about to piss himself and I get it. Abbie makes me get it. Hell, Dexter does, too. My sister is first to greet us after Dexter and she’s looking all belly and smiles. She’s happy, the way I want Abbie to be happy.

Reese joins us and he’s quick to focus on Abbie. “Let’s get you prepped and ready so we can make this go away.”

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